


Lock Up the Dark

by UnabashedBird



Series: Sams of a Feather [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Dean, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Gen, M/M, MCU post-Age of Ultron AU, SPN s11 AU, Verbal Abuse, but still it's only fair to warn that that will be front and center, which is in fact canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnabashedBird/pseuds/UnabashedBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Wanda use their powers to contain the newly-escaped darkness. In the process, some hard truths about the state of Sam and Dean's relationship come to light. Fortunately, Falcon and the other Avengers are on Sam's side and there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lock Up the Dark

Whatever the thing was, it was doing a really good impression of the smoke monster from _Lost_. Falcon would have said that it was out of the ordinary for the Avengers, except that kinda the point was that the Avengers handled the stuff that was really far out of the ordinary. Which today meant a smoke monster, apparently. 

They’d been called in as soon as SHIELD picked up the appearance of whatever it was, but even a quinjet took a little time to fly in, so by the time they arrived it was huge and billowing and scary-looking. And yet, Falcon thought there was something odd about the way it moved—almost like it was trying to break free of restraints.

“Something is fighting it from the inside,” Wanda said, confirming his suspicions.

“Someone’s _in_  there?” Cap asked.

“Or something. I can’t tell, there’s too much of it. It’s evil,” she answered, her power sparking red all around her. “Maybe if I get to what fights it, we can work together, put this back where it came from."

“OK. Natasha and Rhodey will go with you. The rest of us will wait out here unless you call for back-up, with Vision and Falcon doing perimeter sweeps to see how fast it’s growing. Let’s go."

Falcon and Vision took to the air to follow Cap’s orders, while Wanda did her hex thing to open up a tunnel for those heading into the belly of the beast. Since she could only open the way a little at a time, it wasn’t long before Cap reported that he couldn’t see them anymore, and that they’d lost contact. Comms didn’t work in the middle of the smoke monster. Naturally.

But nothing could have prepared Falcon for what happened an hour later, when the red of Wanda’s power and an unfamiliar, cold, blue-white light that Falcon didn’t like at all emerged from within the billowing darkness, surrounded it, and pulled it inward. “Get ready to move in!” came Cap’s order over the comm, and Falcon adjusted his flight pattern, spiraling inward as the smoke-stuff contracted.

No, nothing could have prepared Falcon for what he saw as the last of the smoke was pulled inwards and forced into an object held aloft by Sam. _His_  Sam, standing back-to-back with Wanda next to an old black car. The blue-white light was coming from Sam, and the last of it fizzled out and into the object—an amulet, it looked like—with the last of the smoky darkness as Falcon swooped in for a landing just in time to catch Sam as he collapsed, lowering him gently to the ground.

Sam looked like shit, and there was no way that all of it was from whatever it was he’d just helped Wanda do.

“Hey,” Sam said, tilting his head back and smiling faintly up at Falcon. “They said you were here."

“Bunch a’ weird black stuff doing a smoke monster impression, where else the Avengers gonna be? Question is, what were _you_  doing here?"

“There may have been some things I kinda didn’t tell you about myself,” Sam admitted.

“Yeah, and he clearly isn’t the only one,” a deep, rough, unfamiliar voice growled, and Falcon looked up and realized that Rhodey was restraining someone, someone at whom Natasha was staring in a cold, level way that, if the guy had any sense, would send him to his knees begging for mercy. Between that and the way he’d just snarled at Sam, Falcon was quickly coming to the conclusion that, whoever the other guy was, he didn’t like him.

“Wanda, report,” Cap said, jogging up to join them as Vision landed, completing the group gathered around the old car. Then, taking in who Falcon was supporting, Cap raised his eyebrows. “Sam?"

“Hey, Steve."

“You’re on first name basis with Captain fucking America?!?” the man Rhodey restrained exclaimed. Natasha smirked at Cap, and the rest of them, who never got tired of the story of foul-mouthed Steve calling Tony on his language, grinned as Cap flipped her the bird.

“Dean, how about you yell at me after Wanda reports in to her CO?” Sam said wearily to the angry man, and the grin slid right off Falcon’s face. He didn’t like this at all. _This_  was the brother Sam loved so much?

“It was primordial darkness,” Wanda began. “Unleashed from its prison by the destruction of the lock. But Sam here had remnants of the lock’s first keeper inside him—he was using it to slow the darkness down, which is what I felt when we first arrived—and from that we made a new lock,” she pointed at the strange little amulet Sam still held, “and were able, between the two of us, to push the darkness back where it belongs. He is very powerful,” she added, a note of wonder in her voice. “Unpracticed, but powerful. I am surprised you did not know this."

Falcon looked down at Sam, who was hunched over staring at the ground, radiating shame. Falcon stroked his hair, more confused than ever.

Steve crouched down in front of Sam, who looked up to meet his eyes, albeit reluctantly. “Care to fill us in?” Steve asked gently.

“Oh, it’s simple, really,” Dean broke in before Sam could open his mouth. “Monsters are real, and Sammy and I fight them. Except when Sam’s banging one or becoming one, of course. Those powers, he shouldn’t use them. They’re _evil_. He used them to start the fucking Apocalypse a few years back, for fuck’s sake. Drank demon blood to power up and everything. Those, uh, ‘remnants of the lock’s first keeper’ little miss creepy was talking about, that was some of Lucifer’s grace. I mean, really, Sam, you couldn’t use a condom or—"

Steve moved and Falcon shot to his feet, but Natasha got there first; Rhodey let her snatch Dean and slam him to the ground in a move that was much less playful than when she tackled Tony the first time Falcon brought Sam to the tower to meet some of the others. Dean tried to fight, but he was no match for the Widow, and in next to no time she had him pinned, one knee in his groin, one on his right arm, her left hand around his throat while her right gripped his left wrist. “You do _not_  talk to him that way,” she hissed, though everyone could hear her in the dead silence. “Not now, and not _ever_  again, do you understand me?"

Dean glared up at her. “Hey, if you can’t take a little colorful language—“

She removed her hand from his throat and cut him off with a slap. “Try again."

“Nat,” Sam said wearily from where he still sat, now leaning forward, his arms wrapped around his knees as though trying to make his lanky frame as small as possible. “It’s OK. Dean might have phrased it a bit more crudely than necessary, but everything he said was true, so.” He shrugged.

That was when it clicked into place. Sam, brittle and too-thin and on edge, smile rare and often watery, laugh rarer still. Sam, saying he felt like no matter what, he could never do the right thing. Sam, talking about loving someone but also being trapped in their shadow. Sam, who sat making himself small and didn’t fight back against the words his brother wielded like weapons. Sam whose face was covered in cuts and bruises, the kind a person got when someone else beat the shit out of them.

And Dean, glowering in the Widow’s trap. Dean, who had to be restrained while Sam and Wanda beat back the darkness. Dean, who saw no problem with what he’d just said to Sam. Dean, whose knuckles were bruised and bloody.

Suddenly Falcon knew the score, and he hated himself a little for not figuring it out sooner. He turned back to Sam. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked gently. He watched Sam’s eyes flick past him to Dean, then back.

“We’re on your side, Sam,” Steve said, and Falcon could’ve kissed him, he was so grateful. “It’s your choice."

“We are not evil, Sam,” Wanda said softly, and Falcon wasn’t sure what that had to do with what was happening in that particular moment, or even exactly who ‘we’ was, but, even though it could be unsettling, Wanda did have a knack for saying the right thing at the right time when it came to the weird stuff.

Falcon held out his hand to Sam, and after another moment’s hesitation Sam clasped it and let Falcon pull him to his feet and into an embrace. The hug was a little awkward thanks to Falcon’s rig, so they didn’t hold it long, but when they broke apart Falcon stayed close and gently kissed Sam’s face: forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, everywhere, tender and soft, and when Sam finally smiled, just a little, Falcon kissed his dimples, too. It was Sam who finally leaned forward and kissed Falcon sweetly on the lips, then rested his forehead against Falcon’s and took his hands and murmured “Thank you,” so softly Falcon was sure the words were, at least right now, for him alone, and he smiled and squeezed Sam’s hands.

Everyone except Vision was smiling, and Vision didn’t smile much, so that was OK. Well, Dean wasn’t smiling, just the opposite, but Falcon sort of figured that would be a given.

“Let’s go,” Cap said, and Natasha let Dean up while they all began to move out.

“Wait,” Sam said, and Dean started to smirk triumphantly while Falcon’s heart sank. “The Impala—it’s stuck. Could you—?"

“Got it,” Rhodey said, and gently shifted the car out of the muddy rut it was stuck in so Dean would be able to drive it away.

While Sam reached into the car to get his bag, Dean of course started talking. “Sammy, wait, you can’t just—"

“Yes, Dean, I can. And you know, I think I have to. I need a break. Maybe we both do. The Mark is gone. You’re you again. You have those pictures, I’ll call Cas, tell him it worked, I’m sure he’ll want to see you. Just a break, Dean."

Falcon couldn’t help but smile: it was good to hear Sam stand up for himself like that, especially in light of what he’d just figured out.

“Yeah, of course you’re happy; gonna get yourself some, right? Gonna use my little brother—"

The _crack_  that cut Dean off was Sam’s fist connecting with his jaw, and suddenly Falcon was seeing a whole new side to Sam. “You don’t talk to him like that,” Sam said, voice even and deadly, and Falcon was abruptly aware that Sam might be thin, but every inch of him was wiry muscle and, in that moment, radiating power. “You do not _ever_  talk to him, or about him, like that. Yes, he and I have been seeing each other, but exactly what that does or does not entail is none of your fucking business unless I choose to tell you. He’s so much better than what I deserve, so don’t you _dare_  suggest otherwise.” And with that, Sam slung his bag over his shoulder, spun on his heel, grabbed Falcon’s hand, and set off towards the quinjet. After only a brief moment of surprised silence, the rest of the Avengers fell in.

“So,” Falcon said, once the jet took off and Natasha set the autopilot for home, “what was that about monsters and, uh . . .” he trailed off, really hoping he’d heard wrong, or at least misunderstood. The members of the team Sam wasn’t friends with yet were over on the other side of the jet, very deliberately not paying attention to the corner where Sam sat between Falcon and Natasha, with Steve on Falcon’s other side and Wanda hovering as though she wanted to be there but wasn’t sure she was welcome.

“Yeah. You know, monsters. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, wendigos, pretty much everything you ever heard a scary story about,” Sam said. “Dean and I, we were raised in the life. Hunting life, I mean. Hunting monsters. The rest is a really long story, but the short version is, we were sort of destined to bring on the quasi-biblical apocalypse, and we basically said ‘fuck that,’ but not before I, uh, let Lucifer out of his Cage."

Sam paused to let them all digest that tidbit, then plunged on. “I was supposed to be his vessel, and then it turned out the only way to get him back in the Cage was if I let him in, retook control, and jumped, which I did, and that’s how—"

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up,” Falcon interrupted. “This Cage. It was in hell?"

Sam nodded.

“So when you say you jumped—?"

“Into hell, yeah. Kinda the least I could do, since it was my fault he was out in the first place."

“I seriously doubt that,” Natasha said. Sam shrugged.

Wanda walked over and sat at Sam’s feet, laying a hand on his knee. “I wasn’t trying to look, but using our power together, I saw things—"

Sam looked horrified. “I’m sorry. God, Wanda, I’m so, so sorry."

She stared at him. “You are the one who suffered, but you apologize to me just because I didn’t have enough control to not see your memories?"

“Well, a lot of it’s pretty bad, but I’m used to it. And after what I did—"

“Sam. Baby. There’s no way, absolutely _no way_  that you have ever deserved hell,” Falcon interrupted, grabbing one of Sam’s hands in both of his and holding it to his chest. God, this was so much more fucked up than he’d ever imagined.

Sam just looked at him, and his expression was so matter-of-fact, and why the _fuck_  hadn’t someone gotten him out of there years ago?

“Since I’m guessing how you managed to get back out of hell is a long story,” Steve finally said, trying to redirect the conversation, “what was it you started to say before you were interrupted?"

Sam scrunched up his forehead, searching for his lost train of thought, then relaxed when he found it. “Oh, right. Just that accepting Lucifer, plus the time in the Cage, probably, is how I ended up with residual grace, his grace, in me.” Falcon knew by the way Sam tensed up that Sam knew _exactly_  how that sounded, and then he realized, feeling sick, that maybe—OK, probably—that was because it was what it sounded like. He kissed Sam’s hand, which he still held.

Sam gave Falcon a small, grateful smile before continuing. “The, uh, the thing that was, I guess, keeping the primordial darkness out was initially entrusted into Lucifer’s keeping, and I guess he must’ve absorbed some of its properties into his grace, but—and you have to understand, I’ve never encountered any lore on this, I just found out about the, the darkness today—I guess maybe the Cage is so far removed from this dimension or reality or whatever, or maybe it's just that he’s so twisted, I don’t know, I need to check some sources . . .”

Sam flexed his hands as though itching for a keyboard. Natasha nudged him with her foot. “You’re babbling."

“Right, sorry. Basically, Lucifer passed the lock and key on to Cain in the form of the Mark—yeah, that Mark—and Cain passed it on to Dean, but it was bad news and I finally found a way to destroy it, but then that unleashed the darkness, and, well, here we are."

There was silence, finally broken when Steve said, “You live a very complicated life."

“Understatement of the century,” Falcon said. Sam smiled sheepishly.

They were quiet for a while, then Falcon reached up and brushed his fingers lightly along some of Sam’s bruises. “Where’d you get those, Sam?” he asked softly.

Sam turned to look at him, eyes guarded and sorrowful. “It’s not what you think. The Mark, it changed him, he wasn’t himself, hasn’t been for over a year."

“So you’re saying he never did anything like that, never said anything like those things he said, before he got the Mark?” Falcon asked.

“It’s not like that,” Sam said, sounding desperate.

“Of course not,” Natasha said, staring straight ahead. “He doesn’t want to hurt you, and he’s so sorry afterwards. He loves you and he only wants what’s best for you, but sometimes you make mistakes and mistakes have consequences. It’s only to help you, and he wishes he didn’t have to do it, wishes you hadn’t done the thing that made him angry, he’s sorry, he’s so sorry. And the record of wrongs and failings he keeps, it’s just to help you be better, to remind you of what to avoid, don’t make the same mistake twice, he wishes he didn’t have to remind you, but he loves you and wants what’s best for you, so he does.” She finally turned to face Sam, who stared at her, horror-stricken, eyes filling with unshed tears. “That’s how it is, right?"

The tears began to escape as Sam nodded mutely, and Falcon pulled Sam against him and Sam let him, turning to cry into Falcon’s shoulder while Falcon stroked his hair, and first Steve, then Wanda, and finally Natasha got up and drifted over to where the other Avengers sat, giving Falcon and Sam their privacy.

Sam’s tears subsided after a while, and he sat up straight and looked at Falcon helplessly. “What kind of freak am I, that I wouldn’t let myself see, that I always went back to him?” he asked brokenly.

Falcon took Sam’s face in his hands. “Listen, Sam, _listen to me_. That’s not freakish, that’s a totally normal reaction to what he was doing to you, because he’s your brother, and I’m sure there are lots of good times mixed in with the bad, and I’m sure he’s got good qualities that you know all about. It wasn’t your fault, Sam. None of it was your fault. And you’re with me now, and we’re gonna keep you safe, all of us, and I’ll even help you get Dean some help or try to fix things or whatever if that’s what you decide you want, even though mostly what I’d like to do is let Natasha go Black Widow on his ass. Please, please don’t blame yourself. Please."

“I’ll try,” Sam whispered. “I don’t understand why any of you care so much about me, you especially, but I’ll try."

“That’s all I’ll ever ask of you,” Falcon told him, and kissed him.


End file.
